


Care Of The Reaper

by Ghostinthehouse



Category: Good Omens (TV), Good Omens - Neil Gaiman & Terry Pratchett
Genre: Aziraphale's Flaming Sword (Good Omens), Crowley Was Raphael Before Falling (Good Omens), M/M, Mentioned Gabriel (Good Omens), Post-Apocalypse, South Downs Cottage (Good Omens), The Fall (Good Omens)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-19
Updated: 2020-08-19
Packaged: 2021-03-05 22:42:13
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,727
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25983034
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ghostinthehouse/pseuds/Ghostinthehouse
Summary: Death comes to everyone. When he came to Aziraphale and Crowley, they offered him a cup of tea.
Relationships: Aziraphale/Crowley (Good Omens)
Comments: 24
Kudos: 338





	Care Of The Reaper

It was a beautiful day when Death came calling. A motorcycle, stripped down to bare bones, pulled up outside a cottage, and a tall figure dismounted, collected a parcel from the panniers, and walked silently up to the door. He knocked.

Aziraphale opened the door and looked him up and down. "Oh, good lord. What are you doing here?"

The words brought Crowley stalking furiously across the garden. "You can't have him!"

I AM NOT HERE TO TAKE EITHER OF YOU. I AM HERE TO GIVE THAT WHICH WAS THOUGHT LOST AND STILL DESIRED. Death lifted the parcel a little in demonstration.

Crowley stopped barely a pace away and folded his arms. "Heaven and Hell promised to leave us alone!" he hissed.

I AM NEITHER OF HEAVEN, NOR OF HELL.

Aziraphale and Crowley looked at each other for a long moment.

"Well," Aziraphale said at last, "you'd better come in. Would you like a cup of tea?"

THANK YOU. WHITE, TWO SUGARS. Death ducked his helmeted head to get under the lintel. By the time he had followed Aziraphale into the kitchen, his motorcycle leathers had morphed into black robes. He set the parcel on the kitchen table and folded himself politely into a chair while Aziraphale bustled around with the kettle.

Crowley slouched protectively against the doorframe until Aziraphale gave him a mildly disapproving look and directed him to a chair at the table.

"You're being rude, dear."

"'M a demon, s'what I do," Crowley grumbled back, even as he slithered into the chair.

"You can't fight Death, dear."

Crowley's knee bounced, and he folded his arms tighter. "Healers do it every day, angel. Sometimes they even win."

FOR A TIME, CERTAINLY.

"And you're just - ok with that?"

THEIR STARS SHINE ALL THE BRIGHTER FOR MY DARKNESS BEHIND THEM. I WAS THERE WHEN CHAOS DIED AND THE UNIVERSE WAS BORN. I WILL BE THERE WHEN THE UNIVERSE DIES AND GIVES BIRTH TO CHAOS ONCE MORE. I CAN WAIT.

Something complicated flickered across Crowley's face and was gone again.

Aziraphale set the mugs down on the table with decisive clicks of pottery against wood. "Why, precisely, did you come here? Surely we are outside your remit?"

I AM ALSO THE GUARDIAN OF THINGS CALLED DEAD THAT YET LIVE ON IN SOME WAY. LANGUAGES, FOR INSTANCE. OR NAMES. ENOUGH PEOPLE HAVE CALLED GOD DEAD THAT WE HAVE BECOME - ADJACENT. SHE DESIRED THAT YOU HAVE A TRUE CHOICE AND YET COULD NOT COME AS YOU ONCE KNEW HER.

"Are you trying to say," Crowley snapped, "that you're also God?"

IN PART ONLY. AS ARE ALL WHO WALK THE EARTH.

"And what part are you?"

Death smiled at Crowley. Technically, Death always smiles, being a skeleton, but this one gave the distinct impression of a secretive poker dealer in a dark room. I AM THAT PART THAT LOVES NOT TOO WELL, BUT WISELY. I AM THAT LOVE THAT LETS THEM GO WHEN THEY ARE READY AND IS THERE WHEN THEY COME BACK. I AM THAT WHICH COMFORTS BUT DOES NOT CHIDE, THAT PROMISES REST AND RELIEF, BUT DOES NOT RESTRAIN OR PREVENT. I AM THAT GENTLE GOOD NIGHT AT THE END OF EVERYTHING. I ACCEPT THAT WHICH COMES TO ME, BUT DO NOT TAKE BY FORCE, NOR INTERFERE TO HASTEN THAT END. Death lifted his mug in bony fingers, and the top third of the tea vanished with a slurping sound. I AM IN ALL PLACES AND WITH ALL PEOPLE. I AM THERE IN THE WORST OF TIMES AND IN THE BEST OF TIMES, IN SICKNESS AND IN HEALTH, IN DISASTER AND IN TRIUMPH. WHAT CAN THE HARVEST ASK FOR, IF NOT THE CARE OF THE REAPER?

Crowley pushed his chair back, inching away from the robed figure. "Last time I asked questions..."

YOU WOULD NOT HAVE UNDERSTOOD THE ANSWERS AT THAT POINT IN TIME. IT IS ONLY BY DWELLING AMONG HUMANS, EACH OF WHOM HOLDS A FRAGMENT OF GOD AS THEIR SOUL, THAT YOU HAVE LEARNED ENOUGH TO COMPREHEND THE ANSWERS FOR YOURSELF.

Crowley stood, snatched up his mug, and stalked out into the garden without so much as another word.

Aziraphale watched him go. "Oh dear."

Death said nothing, simply laced his fingers together around his mug.

After a long moment, Aziraphale turned back. "Can you tell me when God left?"

The robed shoulders shrugged. I NEVER WENT AWAY. HUMANS AS A WHOLE SIMPLY LOST THE ABILITY TO SEE ME WHEN THEY ATE THE FRUIT THAT GAVE THEM THE KNOWLEDGE OF GOOD AND EVIL. I AM NOT GOOD OR EVIL, I JUST AM, AND AS I AM NEITHER OF HEAVEN, NOR OF HELL, I CANNOT BE FOUND IN THOSE PLACES.

"Oh. Oh dear." Aziraphale twisted the ring on his finger. "Um. Does Gabriel know? That you... ah..."

HE NEVER THOUGHT TO ASK.

"No, I don't suppose he did. It would be very unlike him." Aziraphale pushed back his chair and rose to his feet. "I'm going to Crowley. Please wait here." He didn't wait for a response, but stepped out into the garden in Crowley's wake. He found him curled on their bench, under the old apple tree. "Crowley?"

Crowley lifted his head. There was a sudden uncoiling of limbs, and Aziraphale found himself with an equally sudden armful of demon clinging to him.

"You stayed," Crowley mumbled into his neck.

Aziraphale held him close. "Of course I stayed, dearheart. We're on our own side now."

"But you're an angel. Why wouldn't you do what She wants? I'm- I'm only a demon, and She _kicked me out!_ All I ever did was ask questions, and..." Crowley's voice broke. 

"But you're _my_ demon." Aziraphale's voice was soft but implacable, the voice of a Principality protecting the place or people they were assigned to.

Crowley's only response was to cling tighter, shoulders shaking. If Aziraphale felt the growing dampness of his shirt, he gave no sign of it, just continued to hold him until the crying fit eased.

"Angel," he sniffed at last, "what if she wants me back?"

"Would you go?"

Crowley shook his head. "I am _not_ Rising. Not going back there again. Not for anyone. Sorry, angel."

"Well then, that answers that. We stay here, and we stay together. Our own side, always and forever." Aziraphale laced his fingers through Crowley's like an anchor against separation. "Are you ready to face him again?"

Crowley scrubbed at his face with his free hand and shoved his dark glasses back into place. "Let's go, angel."

* * *

Inside, Death didn't appear to have moved, except that his mug was now empty. He nodded solumnly to them, and addressed each of them without ceremony.

ANTHONY J. CROWLEY, STARMAKER, HEALER, SERPENT OF EDEN. HER GRACE AND HER LOVE ARE DIFFERENT THINGS. SHE NEVER STOPS LOVING EVEN WHEN SHE WITHDRAWS HER GRACE. IF YOU CHOOSE, YOU MAY FEEL THAT LOVE AGAIN, WITHOUT BEING REQUIRED TO RISE INTO GRACE OR, IF YOU PREFER, YOU MAY HAVE THE KNOWLEDGE YOU ONCE SOUGHT AND DID NOT AT THAT TIME RECEIVE. Death took a box from the package and slid it over to sit in front of Crowley. It looked like a piece of living night, as black as Death's own wings. MAKE YOUR CHOICE, THEN OPEN THE BOX AND REMOVE WHAT YOU HAVE CHOSEN.

Crowley's grip tightened on Aziraphale's hand. "And if I choose knowledge, like the first humans, will that make me unable to see you - Her - whatever? What are the consequences? Are those my only choices?"

IT IS ALWAYS QUESTIONS WITH YOU. Death sounded fondly amused. NO, CROWLEY. NOTHING WILL CHANGE FOR YOU OTHER THAN WHAT YOU CHOOSE TO ADD.

Crowley considered for a very long moment, rocking back and forth on his heels, before he seemed to come to a decision. "I can add whatever I choose to what I have now?"

YES.

Crowley reached out his free hand, flipped up the lid of the box, and withdrew an apple that looked as if it had been carved out of golden light. A heart-shaped leaf still clung to its stem. It glowed faintly in the hollow of his hand for a moment, and then dissolved into it.

AZIRAPHALE, PRINCIPALITY, GUARDIAN OF THE EASTERN GATE, PROTECTOR OF HUMANITY. I AM INFORMED YOU PUT THIS DOWN SOMEWHERE IN EDEN AND NEVER RECOVERED IT. YOU MAY, IF YOU CHOOSE, TAKE IT UP ONCE MORE TO GIVE HUMANITY THE WARMTH, AND THE PROTECTION, AND THE GUIDANCE AS YOU FEEL IT IS NEEDED, OR IF YOU PREFER, YOU MAY CONTINUE TO WIELD WORDS AS A SHIELD TO SHELTER WHOSOEVER NEEDS IT. Death slid a matching box in front of Aziraphale. MAKE YOUR CHOICE, THEN OPEN THE BOX AND REMOVE WHAT YOU HAVE CHOSEN.

Aziraphale gave Crowley a pleading look.

Crowley muttered back, "She's as pedantic as you are, angel. We're a third side, remember? Our side. By our existence there are more than two options."

Aziraphale frowned in thought for a long moment, his fingers fretting back and forth along his watch chain. Then light visibly dawned in his face as he came to a conclusion. He reached out to the box and drew out a sword that looked as if it had been forged out of golden light. It glowed bright as a halo for a moment, then solidified into a steel blade encased in an engraved scabbard.

Death simply smiled, retrieved the empty boxes, and bowed himself out.

Aziraphale lifted their joined hands to his lips and kissed Crowley's knuckles. "Can I ask what you chose, dearest demon mine?"

"Same as you, I reckon. It's not either/or, same as our choices aren't Heaven OR Hell. It's..."

"...Both," Aziraphale finished for him.

"Exactly." Crowley craned his neck. "What does it say on the scabbard? You never had one of those before."

Aziraphale freed his hand in order to lay the sheathed sword across both palms for easier inspection. There, in gilded letters down the centre of the scabbard, lay the words of a simple instruction: _Be Kind To Each Other._

Crowley looked at it, then at Aziraphale, and his smile turned wry, warm, and loving. "Oh yeah," said the demon to his beloved angel, "that'll do it."

Aziraphale smiled back, tucking the sword away into the same dimension he kept his wings. "You know, Crowley," said the angel to his beloved demon, "I do believe it will."


End file.
